


like real people do.

by writertyper



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, NATM au, Night At the Museum AU, its just a fun little thing because night at the museum is oNE OF THE BEST MOVIES TO EXIST, sentient life in the form of wax figures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:06:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writertyper/pseuds/writertyper
Summary: Reader is an Art exhibitor at the fictional London Museum of Art. When a certain tablet (on loan) in the Egyptian Section awakens everyone and everything inside – the reader finds themselves in a world they’d never expected. That includes staring at the Guitarist of Queen, who’s come alive, and wondering how exactly you can allow yourself to have feelings for a wax figurine.





	1. Part One.

Being an Exhibitor in an art museum was possibly one of the _weirdest_ jobs on your resume. When you got your degree, you hadn’t thought you would end up at one of the most mix-matched museums around. The London Museum of Art teetered on the edge of a cliff of prestige, always dangerously close to loosing that title. Thanks to a curator in the early 2000’s and a lot of funding, you were working in a museum with serious artwork and craftsmanship. And then there were the wax figurines.

As that curator had described it, they wanted to pay tribute to some of the best musicians that had impacted British contemporary music. You guessed the funders hadn’t thought that would involve wax figurines of Queen or the Beatles. Or Elton or Bowie.

But a job was a job, and you were happy to accept the offer they proposed when you sent your resume in. A steady job, surrounded by art and history — two things you adored. How could you not?.

Then, there was the _offer_. The Museum of Natural History in New York came as somewhat of a shock to you when it showed up on your desk. Reading over the brief, you couldn’t believe they wanted to offer up one of their most prized possessions. A pharaoh’s tablet and the pharaoh himself? It took everything in you not to slam the concept down on your curator’s desk. But she found it eventually, and quickly called up the institution to agree to their terms.

That’s how you ended up, months down the road, sneaking into the very museum you worked at.

The exhibit had been open for a little over a week, with soft opening and test audiences abound in the weeks prior. Overall, the “Art of Ancients” exhibit you had poured your blood and sweat into was being met with rave reviews. It felt nice to have something to add to your C/V and to call your own. But something had been missing; you’d never been alone with the exhibit. In all your time working on it, there’d always been someone else in the room to disrupt the concept of being alone with all the hard work you’d done. There was only one option to truly be alone.

You knew you weren’t supposed to be in the museum after hours, but the notion was too exciting. Plus, the lack of security in the museum made slipping in and out easier than it should have been. With a night guard who was asleep half the time, you were already sure you would be fine as you took the familiar path back to the exhibit.

Setting your bag down in front of the glass cases, full of King Ahkmanrah’s most treasured possession, you peered at the tablet that seemed so sacred. The sun’s last beams of light were hitting it. You watched as they slowly faded away and left the dark night instead. A sense of serenity filled you, knowing you were truly allowed to relish in your work. It was a selfish process, but a process nonetheless. It wasn’t often you got to do this amount of work with a team behind you, working hard for something that the public would enjoy.

You figured you’d enjoy it now.

Pulling out a notebook from your bag, you tried to stare at the exhibit and think of the little things that needed tweaking. There were a few plaques that looked as though they weren’t giving enough relevant information. And maybe a few of the pieces should be moved around more?

“What have you got there, sweetie?”

You froze. Shit, how had you been caught so quickly? Turning and expecting the guard, you wondered how he had found you already. You thought that they were slow—

It wasn’t the security guard.

Your eyes widened more than they should have; a scream was building up in your lungs. Which the other person seemed to notice. He quickly placed a hand over your mouth, just in time to reduce the effects that your scream had. But you couldn’t breathe, and before you knew it, you were passing out in Roger Taylor’s arms.

* * *

 

When light finally found you once more, your head throbbed and the cold of the tile below you was making your hairs stick up on ends. Or maybe that was the group of rockstars staring at you from above, hovering like predators. They made you want to scream one more time, and you weren't sure why. Was it the fright and shock? Or what is something more unnerving?

“Oh, she’s as pale as a ghost.” One voice murmured from above. You were still trying to get your bearings about you. Unsure of which voice you could hear, you just groaned.

“I have no clue why,” someone else shot back. You were pretty sure it was from your right this time, instead of your left like the last one. “Guess she doesn’t see a rockstar everyday.”

“Oi, shut up, will you? She’s trying to get herself together.”

“ _Ghurs?_ ” You didn’t wholly have complete control of your mouth and something slipped out that would have normally elicited a blush from your cheeks. (Being well-spoken was something you tried to pride yourself on.) At the moment, you could see yourself making a _fool_ of yourself. But who in front of, exactly? A security guard, right?

Your eyes blurred less, _slightly_. Just enough for you to find the bright blue of something shiny on your left and a shirtless (yet vested) figure on your right. And you knew both of those outfits in such detail that as your eyes blurred even less, you thought you just might faint again. Oh, right. This was why you had blacked out in the first place. How could you forget Paul McCartney and Roger Taylor flanking either side of you, staring as though you were some wounded animal? And of course, behind them were other celebrities (some of which seemed as though they hadn’t aged a day since their heyday.

As everything started to make sense once more, you had to look at the others around you and stop yourself before you screamed. Because this made no logical sense.

This had to be a prank, right?

But nobody knew you were coming?

Are these just a bunch of security guards in costume, or a part, or…?

They couldn’t be though. Just looking up at the two closest to you, you knew no one could replace either of their looks. It was odd, the two of them, staring down at you with manners that you would have fawned over in a different lifetime.

“Why don’t you let her breathe?” Another voice interjected, and the two above you turned to find the lanky figure of someone you swore had to be Brian May. He had his arms crossed over his chest and seemed exhausted. From what you weren’t sure, since he wasn’t the seventy-something old man that was just promoting a biopic about Queen. And it definitely wasn’t the actor. “She’s probably in for a shock.”

“Well, if she was trying to break in, she deserves it.” Another voice shot back. When you followed it, you found — _wait_. That wasn’t Elton, was it?

Brian let out a deep sigh. “No, haven’t you seen her picture around? She’s the exhibitor.”

You let your silence prevail over anything else. Just listening to these people (things?) bicker was enough for the moment. When you peered and found that the two who had flanked you earlier had moved closer to the group, you did relax slightly. But then George Harrison sat himself down right next to you, in his salmon coat and pirate hat, watching the small group quarrel. He turned, and gave you a pointless grin. “Breathe. You look like you might explode.”

His accent was spot on.

None of this made any sense.

“Wait,” you cut in on the conversation happening without you, but somehow being about you. “What is this? A prank? Did Julia tell you I was going to be here tonight?”

“Sorry, love. But who’s Julia?” Roger Taylor looked at you, a slight interest showcased in the tilt of an eyebrow. You shook your head and moved on. Alright, so maybe it wasn’t a prank brought on by that funny roommate of yours.

“Are you actors?”

A young George Michael filled in the answer on that one. “I don’t believe so. Most of us made our living in music. Bowie, didn’t you do some films?” As he turned his attention to the man, the other shrugged.

“So did Ringo.”

Freddie Mercury added, “I tried ballet, but they learned quickly I wasn’t the dancer they were looking for.”

And you swore you were going to break. This wasn’t funny anymore. You had to be going mad.

* * *

 

As twilight turned into an early dawn, there was still some time before the sun officially rose. You found yourself on the roof and watching the lights twinkle. There was so much swirling inside your head, but you couldn’t just abandon the place. The door clicked open behind you, and you turned to find a reserved Brian May leaning against the entry way. “Freds want to know if you’re all good?”

A scoff bubbled out of your mouth; you couldn’t stop it. “Yeah, sure. You find out that everything in the museum you work at comes alive at night, and you’re just supposed to be good.”

You tried to think back to the modge-podge group guiding you to the newest exhibit — the one you had put together — and showing you the tablet. You’d been introduced to the Pharaoh (the one who should have died hundreds of years ago) and his youthful glow didn’t escape you. He wanted to be called Ahk. As though he was cool and youthful. He was the one to explain everything to you — even if none of it seemed to make that much sense. The tablet you had thanked the Lord for was gifted with ancient powers that somehow brought everything to life.

It didn’t make much sense to you then. Brian had moved to try and explain a little further, but you gave the excuse that you needed a little air. (Was it an excuse if you really needed it?) You found yourself walking up and up flights of stairs, eventually granting you access to the roof. And even after all of the walking and time…

It still didn’t make sense.

Nor did it make much sense now, a few hours later, with Brian May standing just a little but away from you.

He actually chose to move himself a little closer, lifting himself from the position he was already in and taking a few steps closer to you and your ledge. Your feet dangled over the edge, and you felt like you were flying for a second. It was relaxing when nothing else was.

“It’s a lot, I know. But is there anything else you can really do?”

“Run for the hills?” You thought aloud. “Ask God what the hell is going on?”

He let out a little laugh. “Oh, no. This isn’t God. It’s something, just not Jesus and all that.” His eyes drifted down to the cigarette in your hand, your own eyes following his. As if silently asking, he lifted his eyes up and gave a pleading sort of look. You don’t know why you were so worried that he would melt from the heat, but he seemed to be alright as you gave the cig away. After a gentle drag and a hiss, he handed it back over. Guess it wasn’t for him. “John agrees.”

“Lennon or Deacon?”

“Lennon.”

A nod sufficed as ‘ _I should have known that_ ’. Nevertheless, you peered out at the horizon in front of you, the moon beginning it’s descent for the evening. “I can’t believe there are legends downstairs, and I’m up here having a breather.” You flicked the cigerette off the building, watching it slowly fall down the tall building.

Brian jerked his head back towards the door. “You can head down if you want. We’ve still got a few hours before daylight.”

“What happens then?”

“We go back to being wax.” He stated, so innocently and truthful that you felt as though you should have known that already. Of course they do! Otherwise you wouldn’t have exhibits to stake your job on. “We wake up tomorrow night, do this all over again.” After a pause, he added as an afterthought, “As long as the tablet is still working.”

You couldn’t help but point out, “You seem to be taking this all remarkably well.”

“It was quite odd at first.” He admitted. “But Ahk managed to explain it well enough before anyone got hurt. Nobody is stupid enough to go outside. We all choose to keep each other company.”

“Yeah, how is it living with other legends?”

He chuckled, but there wasn’t much humor behind it. If there was, it wasn’t a generous humor. “They’re kind of wankers. McCartney is always fighting with John.”

“That’s kind of expected.” You sighed. “I did a paper on them once, for a music history class in uni.”

“Ever do one on Queen?”

“Nope.” You grinned like a sly cat. You could remember the stupid essay for the class, and how you had to write something on ‘musicians in turmoil and the art that came out of it’. “But one of my friends did on Hot Space. She got a C.”

“Well, that’s the absolute shit.”

“You should talk to her about it; she’s still upset!” You couldn’t help the laughter that came, starting in your stomach and bubbling up until it escaped. Brian couldn’t resist it either, because soon enough he was laughing along with you. You were pretty sure that your hand had slipped onto his shoulder a s a reason for support, the other tucked by your stomach.

As you settled down, you retracted your hand from it’s spot and looked back out to the skyline. The stars were gorgeous.

“Do you think you’ll come back?”

You had to look over to Brian to make sure that he had actually asked that. There was slight aprehension on his face as he waited for your answer.

“I dunno, probably. It’s not like I can just move on with my life now — knowing all of this.”

“I’m sure everyone would be happy if you came back.”

“What about you?” You joked.

“Of course.” He was so sincere, it hurt. You guess you didn’t know how lonely it had to be sometimes, trapped in a building with people you might not know personally. And to not be able to go outside without worry of being caught? That seemed like being damned. But then Brian smiled, so brightly, you thought that the sun was already rising. “I’d be happy to have you here any day.”

“You’re too kind. You live up to the legend.”

He opens his mouth say something, but chose instead to stay quiet. You linger for just a second, hoping he’ll say something instead of remaining sielnt. But he doesn’t. You choose to turn back towards the exit, instead. Your feet hit the concrete of the roof, and it doesn’t take long to head back to the door. Brian isn’t far behind you.

* * *

You ended up returning the next night.

Brian seemed to be relaxing by the front of the lobby, a book in hand that you recognized from the Curator’s collection in her office. As his eyes scanned through the pages, you waited for him to notice. And just as he turned the page, his eyes caught your own and he smiled. “Glad to have you back, [Y/N].”

“It’s too interesting to pass up.” You shrugged. “You want to come with me? I’m gonna go see everyone else.”

He joined you without question, but only upon marking his page with the tiniest of marks (and doing his best to burn the page number into his brain). Brian found his spot besides you. “I’m glad you feel this excited. You _are_ excited, right?”

“You could use that word, if you wanted.”

And so he guided you towards the people you considered legends.

As the nights passed, you found more and more reasons to return. There was so much to ask these people, to know them in depth and have a candid conversation with “legends” who had lived decades before you.

Then there was the rest of the art in the museum. John Lennon walked you through an exhibit of the more political pieces and he spoke with a passion you had only wished to have seen in another life. Freddie and Elton took you through the temporary exhibit on avant-garde fashion in the 1800’s. One night, Roger rushed off with you as you showed him your favorite exhibit. He listened in a sort of wonder as you spoke about one of your many passions, and Brian listened in from somewhere a little way’s back, before excusing himself when realizing just how rude he was being by eavesdropping.

You didn’t notice the slight glint of jealousy in his eyes when you returned with Roger sometime later.

The nights continued to pass, and the moon greeted you every evening with a promise of unbridled possibilities. You found discussions of spirituality with George enriching, chats with Bowie on the most minuscule matters of literature, and then there was Brian.

Finding a reason to spend time alone with Brian wasn’t difficult. He always wanted to show you something, or have you talk for long periods about different things you wad worked on throughout the museum. Some nights, you could barely get a word in with someone else without seeing a smile on Brian’s face and a promise of a new adventure. It wasn’t hard to agree.

He always waited, though. If you needed to talk with someone about a pressing matter, he would gently stand close to you and wait. As patient and gentle as waves crashing against the sand, he was a constant that made your heart soar sometimes. Just when you were really thinking about it. About him.

But then, as quickly as it started, it halted. He stopped waiting to greet you every evening, leaving you to search him out. Roger or Freddie would always know where he was, somewhere quiet and lonely. And there would be a book in his hands, oftentimes something more academic that he could dive into. You guess he had to live up to his doctoral title somehow. You would gently say hello, and he would give you a gentle smile in return. He’d ask how you were doing; how was the weather today? Did you get enough sleep?

And you’d reply to every small-talk question that left you feeling as though he was trying to separate the two of you. When he wouldn’t try and continue, you would give up and tell him you’d find him later. He didn’t seem to mind. You tried not to either — there was so much to do.

But after a few weeks, you grew tired of the cat and mouse game he was trying to play. And you made sure he knew it.

That night you rushed in with such purpose and point that Freddie almost looked a little scared when he spotted you. That fear seemed to double when you rushed out, “Where is he?”

He pointed at the poster to your left. “Out of This World: How The Stars Create Art”, an exhibit on natural art, nebulas, and galaxies was all the way at the other end of the museum. You thanked him curtly and almost ran to get there.

But if you were out of breath, then you didn’t know what air was when you spotted Brian. He was relaxed on the ground, and as your eyes followed his, you found the glass ceiling panes above. He looked on in awe, and you felt the same when looking towards him.

Then, he noticed you. And he frowned. And you spat out the only thing you could think to say.

“I don’t think everyone likes me.”

He shot up, using a hand to prop himself up as he stared on. Perplexed was an understatement. “They’re all happy to have someone new to talk to.”

“Are you?”

You couldn’t match his eyes.

Nevertheless, you could sense his bafflement. “Of course.” Brian had never looked more confused than he did in that moment, with his eyebrows scrunched up in an almost painful movement. A frown was etched over his lips and you regretted it the moment you fully took in his expression. But it didn’t make much sense. In fact, it made about as much sense as any of these people coming to life every night. Why had he left you be for so long? “Why would you ask that?”

You made the power move. You inched yourself closer to him, as though your body knew you had been away from your friend for too long. It helped that he seemed to invite you over, giving you some space when you plopped down next to him. “I dunno. You haven’t been around the last couple of weeks, at all. Freddie couldn’t even figure out where you were the other night. And when I do find you, you’re reading some book.” With a beat, you added, “You’re more interested in it than me.”

“That’s not true.” He returned. His hand landed over yours as a comfort, but it was cold to the touch. You didn’t want to pull away, though. “I wanted to give you a little space. You’ve got quite a few personalities to meet.”

“You could have helped me with them. Do you know how difficult it is to walk up to any of these people and just try to have a nice little discussion? You’re kind of my key to this kingdom.”

He seemed even more pained, the frown becoming more and more pronounced as you continued. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I didn’t want to make you seem like you were being stifled by my company.”

“You’re good company. I don’t think that could happen.”

The sentiment managed to get the frown away, just a little. “I’m glad to hear that.” He looked down at his hand over yours, but there was pain in his gaze and you couldn’t have that.

“Hey,” you gently nudged him. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

He gave you a promising look in response. “Okay.”

As you settled back down to resume your stargazing, his arm gently guided you to lay on his chest. And he was soft and relaxing, so you couldn’t stop yourself. With your eyes fixed on the sky above, you couldn’t see his gentle looks towards you with eyes flickering between the two gorgeous views he found.

You felt a hand rake itself through your hair. Repetitious through the patterns, the feeling felt just as calming as the sight of the man doing it, and you almost thought you might fall asleep if this continued. But the best part was just being back around Brian.

You didn’t know how long you two stayed together until the alarm on your phone went off — reminding you the sun would rise soon. Brian helped you up, and the two of you chatted for a few minutes as you walked him out of the exhibit and towards his place. When you found the split in your paths, he lingered for just a moment longer than he should have. And there was that damn smile, making your heart soar. You were so close, but that soaring heart was replaced with the painful thought and memory of his cold hand. You remembered why his hand was cold.

You gave him a smile and a wave, letting him walk off.

“You should just kiss him,” a voice startled you. As you spun around, you found John watching the scene play out. Brian had already passed the last pillar of his hallway and left you to your own devices, but he didn’t seem to sense the other body as he left. How long had John been there? “Everyone sees it, [Y/N].” There was a smugness to his words, and you just wanted to punch him and that stupid smirk off his face. He did everything with good intention, but the smugness was a little too much for you at the moment.

“Well he doesn’t,” you shot back. For the life of you, you couldn’t seem to understand that man completely. Somewhere between avoidance and the moment you two had just shared, your head spun. Because he had to like you in some way? He even said he enjoyed your company. The fear that crept in when considering what he truly thought of you forced the next words out of your mouth before you could stop them. “And it’s not like I should anyways.”

Deaky’s eyebrow quirked. His amusement didn’t leave him as he asked, “Why’s that, again? Because he’s made of wax like the rest of us?”

You just continued to make word vomit as you replied. “You’re dead on it, Deacy. Hit the nail on the head.”

He rolled his eyes.

“But that doesn’t explain it. You’re just giving me some excuse.”

The fire was lit. He could see it in your eyes and how your hands curled into fists. He would be scared if he thought you would actually go into hurt him. “And how is that an excuse?” You spat. “I hate to break it to you, but you guys aren’t actually physically people. You can’t just walk out and live a normal life.”

Which was true. It was something that had hit you in a week prior when discovering you would have to go get books for Bowie. He couldn’t just walk out in the morning and grab something from the nearest bookstore or library. Going to clubs were out of the question for others. There was never going to be a sense of true normalcy between any of the people inside the building at night. Even more over, these men would never age. They’d never see another year, forever frozen and stuck in their prime. And what about you? You’d just continue to decay and live.

Yet, Deaky still continued to try. “I don’t want to sound like George—”

“Which one?”

“Either.” He shot back. One was as spiritual as they came and the other was a helpless romantic. Two very good people to have on his side. “But how would you consider any life normal? Explain me that judgement.”

“You don’t get it.” You returned. “You literally can’t understand it.”

“Alright, fine.” He gave up. His hands went up in defeat and you found a sort of relaxation in the notion that this argument was over. “But you can’t escape liking him — you know you do.”

“Yeah, and so what?” You crossed your arms. “I don’t act on all of my feelings. Real people don’t do that.”

As John made his way past you, a gentle hand rested itself on your shoulder and you found him staring somewhere deep in to your soul. It was a little unnerving.

“This is going to sound cliche, but just choose not to be a real person.”


	2. Part Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, yES. i know it's been a very long time since i added anything and i don't really know what excuse i have?? but pls enjoy this conclusion to a story you've most likely lost interest in. :)

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

A scoff came somewhere from the direction where Elton stood. Brian was pretty sure it was him, but Freddie held the same expression nearby, so he couldn’t be sure. Sharon and Melina were in agreement so often, Brian wasn’t sure where one of them stopped and the other started. “I thought you said this wasn’t a joking manner.” He sighed while pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead. A migraine was quickly coming on from this discussion, and he didn’t know how long he could take everyone going against him. Then there was the question of where the headache was coming from, too. “If we’re going to be serious, then let’s be serious, alright?”

“Fine, you want to be serious?” Roger shot back. As he leaned against one of the many pillars from the museum, he stared at his friend with something between pity and a real anger. This discussion had been going on for too long now, simply put. It should have been a cut and dry sort of thing, but the languid looks Brian was giving when you were brought up was too much for anyone to take. Especially considering this was a conversation about you. “Tell her you like her.”

Brian stood still for a moment; he could see everyone waiting for him to respond — but there wasn’t much to say. “I can’t.”

“And why not?” Roger wanted to scream. He was sure his friend had a good reason to stay quiet — and no one would be upset that he did so. However, holding these sort of conversations on the nights you were away were getting to be too much. Brian needed to stop being so indecisive and say something before Roger threw himself into a fire and let himself melt away. Brian’s lonely pining and desperate attachment to some girl that knew he existed in this particular form was uninteresting, to say the least. However, this discussion seemed to believe differently as it always veered towards you and Brian’s feelings towards you. As Roger met Brian’s state, he responded. 

“Because I don’t want to scare her off.”

“Your feelings for her definitely won’t scare her off,” John piped up. He couldn’t outright say anything because he promised you he wouldn’t. (Keeping promises was about all the man had in terms of morality, since he wasn’t quite sure where he stood on that plane, but he was destined to keep them.) John figured he would assure Brian anyways. 

“But he’s got a pretty reasonable point.” Paul puts in. From his spot balancing on a glass case, he’s tuned in and out of the conversation. “When it comes to scaring her off.” Partially selfish (and selfless in the same regard), he didn’t want to imagine nights without your presence. Nights like these, when you chose to get some rest instead of running around with everyone, were often so boring. 

“He won’t.” Roger fought. “She definitely likes him.”

“You should have seen her when she decided she was going to ring Bri out when he kept trying to leave her alone.” Freddie rolled his eyes. “She was practically rabid.”

Brian thought back to the night and just how much he felt the guilt as he watched you come into the astronomy, wing with pain written all over your face. You felt betrayed, he knew that much in the moment. But he hadn’t known how badly you would feel about him leaving you alone until you said it. And then he felt like a horrible person. He had felt like a horrible person for weeks now. “Because she was upset at me.” Brian tried to explained. He’d be upset if a friend just abandoned him like he had done. “I was a bad friend, and she knew.”

“He’s hopeless,” George mused. The feather in his hat sagged as he set his face into his hands. The bright color of his salmon suit did nothing to brighten the mood of the group. “He’s got about as much sense in him as a bird with a little brain.”

“You have to tell her, just to out us out of our misery.” Roger tried, one last time. 

“And it’s not like you don’t want to.” Ringo chimed in.

———

The subway was slow — it had to be. You were always on the platform by 7:30, and the train car would arrive a little while afterwords. It was a pattern you could depend upon in the world you were working with, where seemingly non-sensical things came out at you when you weren’t expecting. This pattern never failed — until this morning. You were looking down at your watch to find that the 7:40 had already passed. You did you best to calm a raising heartbeat, but all you could think about was how of course this would happen. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed so late last night? It had been a lot of work with Freddie and Roger about something for today, and you probably should have left before 3 — but with everything happening today, what were you supposed to do?

When the car finally arrived at 7:46, you hopped on and found a seat as you waited for the doors to close. They shut at 7:49, and opened once more at the destination at 7:59. You rushed out and up the stairs to the “fresh” air London brought — the light nearly blinding you in the process. You had to squint and keep moving if you were going to get to work within ten minutes. (Calling the Curator seemed pointless, since it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than give an excuse). Eventually, your feet scurried up the steps of the museum’s huge stone staircase and you could hear a bell tower sounding it’s ‘fifteen minutes past’ marker. Every pang of the bell sent a little more dread through your body. You did your best to scramble through the door before the last gong sounded.

The Curator watched you run past her office — of which the door was always open. Her eyes followed your rushing by with a little bit of an interested gaze as you headed to the offices underneath the museum. They tended to be a little stuffy, but at least they had those windows near the ceiling. Providing a little view to the few inches above the ground was nice to look at when the days dredged on sometimes. Although, you had to make sure to keep the windows closed when it rained, — far too worried about your work to take any risks. That meant you kept them closed a lot. 

As you set down your things and checked your watch one last time — you noted it was only eleven minutes past 8. You could let out a sigh of relief. Your first meeting wasn’t for another few hours. The most important part of your day was only a couple of hours away, and you weren’t sure if you were even going to be able to keep yourself awake that long. Caffeine was the first thing you needed to do for the day, quickly followed by organizing the presentation — for the new addition to the contemporary artists section.  

While the coffee brewed on the other end of the hallway, you smiled to yourself. Knowing everything came to life at night presented you with an odd opportunity, to say the least. To say you felt a little like God would be sacrilegious — but true all the same. Investors wanted more of the musicians; you couldn’t say no. It was half excitement for picking out who would be next, and half understanding that the investors knew that’s what brought people in — surprisingly. The meeting was just to narrow down the options of what would rope people in, which included the likes of the Stones and The Police. There was only room for one new spot to add on though, and you didn’t know if you’d be able to pick. Then again, that’s what the investors were for. 

A knock at the door left you turning your head to find the Curator. She took a step in, always so kind and gentle. You weren’t sure why — it was hard to get to where she was without fighting a little bit. As you offered her a cup of coffee, which she denied, you started talking to fill the empty space. “I’m sorry I was late. The tube train took off a few seconds too soon. I’ll be better about it next time.” 

She waved it off. “Oh, it’s alright. I came down to make sure you were ready for meeting.” 

You nodded. Of course you were. 

Roger and Freddie had been kind enough to help you generate a list a few nights previously, while Brian sat close to you and provided some support — which included physical when you got too tired to keep yourself upright. His shoulder had been soft while you fought Roger on whether or not to include Sid Vicious on the shortlist. (“Nobody considers him the pinnacle of British music,” you had reminded him.)  

“Alright, good.” She didn’t need much more than a confirmation, and you watched her gracefully move back upstairs towards her office. Conversations with her were always this way — concise and to the point. There were probably more important things for her to do than to hover over you. Actually, it wasn’t even a probably. You knew there were more important places and things for her, just like yourself. You steeled yourself, reminding to focus on your few tasks at hand. Even as fatigue was starting to wash over you after the adrenaline rush of the morning, you pushed yourself and got to work…after a quick sip of coffee.  
— — — 

The day had passed by quicker than you imagined, and you didn’t really know what happened sometime around five. The meeting had gone well, and you guessed you dozed off when the work day was over. You did remeber there being a light breeze as you awoke; when your eyes fluttered open and you discovered the window above your desk still open, you could let out a sigh. With a gentle push off the desk, your arms reached out to close the damned thing. It felt nice stretching them from a postion other than holding your head off the desk. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were cold.”

A yelp came from you as your eyes darted over to where the voice had come from. Brian sat, a couple of your files from work dangling out of his hand as he watched you; you were pretty sure they were the files from the meeting. How long had he been there? You wondered. Hopefully, not long; you couldn’t bare to think of him hearing you snore. 

“It’s alright.” Your hands came up to your lips, which were slightly chapped and a little cold — or maybe that was your hand. Actually, your whole body felt cold since you had decided to leave the window open so many hours ago. As you searched for your watch somewhere among the pile of things on your desk, Brian watched with a silent serenity that you could feel radiating from him. How the hell was he always like this? You could practically feel yourself buzzing as you tried to wake up, but he seemed like a rock against the waves you made. 

Where was the damn thing? 

“Are you looking for something?” He still seemed to be skimming through your papers while he watched you rush around your desk. You thought he looked a little amused, with the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. 

“Just my watch,” you said. 

He chuckled a little, lifting his hand to point to your wrist. As you followed his point, you quickly realized you had never even taken it off. Again, what the hell was wrong with you? First the subway this morning, then the snooze-fest in the afternoon, and now this? At least the meeting hadn’t gone this bad. As you checked the time and found it a little after seven, you forced yourself to take a breath and calm down a little. You still had all night to spend with everyone if you wanted. “Thanks,” you supplemented. 

“The meeting went well?” Brian could tell from the smile on your face alone that it had gone better than you had hoped, and he figured you’d tell him all about it within time. He hugged your papers a little tighter, before setting them down, putting them in a neat pile on your desk. “Did you sleep well?” 

“The nap? Yeah, it was alright.”

“Actually — last night? Did you get any sleep?”

You tried to remember what last night had even brought in your post-nap haze, but instead found that the only thing that came to mind was your head hitting the pillow beneath you sometime after 3. The alarm rang what seemed like a few seconds later. A shrug would have to suffice instead of a long-winded answer about how you thought you were surviving well on little sleep, with the occasional off-night. Maybe you should have a conversation with him instead about getting more sleep sometime. It wasn’t something for right now. “I got enough.” In an effort to aid any of Brian’s worry, you added, “I feel fine — if that’s what you’re asking.”

“As long as you’re feeling okay.” 

He moved his line of sight towards the door, and you followed it. Right. There were things to do for the night, and you could start to feel the anticipation growing in your chest. You wondered if you were ever going to get used to all of this? Seeing someone like Freddie or McCartney nightly was too much to really think about, and to have someone as brilliant as Brian by your side? You still wondered if you were dreaming. Then you thought about how cliche the thought was, and banished it from your head. The climb upstairs and out of what you called the dungeons was quiet, aided only by yours and Brian’s light footsteps. There wasn’t much of a need to talk between the two of you; you’d figured out weeks ago that just having him by your side was enough. As the two of you walked into the main corridor, you spotted a head of curls much shorter than your companion’s and a sort of blossoming happened somewhere in your chest from admiration. 

The security guard, Joe, greeted you with a big smile. “So, you have an excuse for tonight?” His voice boomed through the main lobby, bouncing off the walls made of beautiful marble and stone. You grinned, and felt your feet moving a little faster to get to the familiar face — the other human of the group. 

“Not really,” you admitted. “But you know what’s going on now, so I don’t need one.”

“True. True. Hey — will you give this to Bowie?” He handed over a small book, nothing more than a light read.

“Did he ask for this?” You countered, taking the book from his hand and feeling your hand brush over his. Joe’s cheeks blushed a light shade of pink, but it wasn’t as though you noticed. Your eyes were trained on the little book, before stuffing it in your bag and making sure you’d find him later that night. “I’ll remind him to ask me instead.”

Joe was a funny character, who would much rather have found a passive place in the background — strolling through the halls all evening or in the control room watching from afar. He wasn’t as fond of interacting with the legends, and you figured it had something to do with the fact this wasn’t exactly the most natural of circumstances. However, he was anything but rude. He was kind and considerate, especially to those he worked with (including yourself), and you were happy to call him a friend. Ever since the night when he walked in on you having an arm wrestling match with George Michael, and the subsequent hours spent walking him around and explaining everything, you two had been close. Shared trauma, you guessed. There was always a little ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ when you saw him, and he alway found time to chat you up when you were slipping into one of the exhibits after hours. You’d be waiting for someone, and he’d ask kindly what the guys were all like. How could you not give him an answer? 

Joe nodded as a sign of greeting to Brian before heading off to his post for the night. Once he was out of sight and ear-range, your tall companion turned to you. 

“I didn’t know you were close with the night guard.” Brian mused. You smiled up at him. 

“Yeah, it’s nice having someone else who goes through the same process as you do — when you discover all this.” 

“It’s a bit of a shock, I’m sure.” The two of you were headed down one of the quieter hallways, towards the astronomy exhibit and the Egyptian art. Everyone else normally congregated on the west wing of the museum, where you’d greet them each evening if they hadn’t already split up. You guessed Brian didn’t want to be around everyone else just quite yet. 

“Probably one for you, too!” You giggled as a response. “Suddenly you’re alive and you don’t have to go through all the years of pooping in your own diaper.” 

He chuckled so softly, you swore your heart melted. Brian had a habit of laughing and letting his eyes flutter slightly, you had noticed. The act made him exude the softest of personalties, which worked so well with everything else about him — a juxtaposition to his job. How did a well mannered man become so synonymous with rock and roll? (Well, pop-rock in the later years.) Then there were nights when you would walk in him having a row with Deaky and you’d remember exactly why he worked so well with the title. There were the little smiles when he heard one of Queen’s songs on the radio station as you tried to finish a little work some nights, too. A man who prided himself on his work so much couldn’t be anything other than a rockstar, you guessed. 

“Aren’t we all glad I didn’t have to go through any diapers?” He joked, bringing you back to the present. 

“That would be such a hefty job — and a gross one too.” Your nose wrinkled up at the thought, and his followed suit. When you locked eyes, the both of you couldn’t help but chuckle a little it. You added in an after thought, “I would change them for you — but only if you asked.”

“Do you do that for all your good friends?” 

“Who said you were a good friend?”

Brian knew it was a joke, and he did his best to continue on with it. “Oh, am I not? Does Joe outrank me?” Maybe that wasn’t the right way to continue it, though. He always did his best to hide whatever he felt towards the night guard — something between an admiration for the effortlessness that he exuded when he spoke you you, and a hint of jealousy when Brian’s eyes would land on your amused expression. 

“Some days.” 

That definitely didn’t help whatever he was feeling, and he couldn’t help himself as he blurted out: “Do you like Joe?”

The two of you paused outside of the Egyptian art. He was joking, right? The quick blink of your mind that had you wondering why he would be asking that question so seriously left you as a flash of something red hot went through your whole body. “What if I did?” Altogether, not your best response — you needed to know the answer regardless. 

The worst part was that he seemed so genuine in his statement, blinking at you with those eyes that just made you melt, when he replied. “Well, then — you should ask him out?” The heat coursing through your body was replaced almost instantly with something icier, like a dagger slicing through you. Why would he say such a thing? Did he know the feelings you did so well to hide away?

“Yeah, you think so?” He knew, he had to. Brian knew that you two would never work out, so here he was trying to push you onto someone else. You weren’t sure when your desolation turned into a sick vengeance; your emotions were so out of wack that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to pinpoint it. 

“Only if you like him.” Brian was quick to snap back. If there was any blood to run to his cheeks, he’d be blushing as he tried to hold everything down. Why were you so stubborn about this? Why couldn’t you just accept or deny what the two of you had, and just put Brian out of his misery. He was already forced to stay inside this damn building every night, and now he had to watch the one person he liked walk off with some other breathing person? “You don’t have to go out with anyone you don’t want to.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” You shot back, and Brian’s features scrunched up. 

“Alright.” He was far from the normally calm man you enjoyed spending time with. Instead replaced with an agitated and annoyed man, Brian had his arms crossed over his chest and an expression you couldn’t quite piece together with how fast your head was whirling. Weren’t you just joking about poop a minute ago? A question about a guy you didn’t even like shouldn’t have set you off — because as nice as Joe was….he wasn’t Brian. 

“I want to go out with you.” 

Silence. 

You weren’t sure why it slipped out, or why you felt as though you needed a moment of honesty in the middle of a fight. Was this a fight? You could remember your parents telling you honesty was always the best policy, but then you did stupid things like this and you had to wonder how well they thought through their logic. 

“‘m sorry?” Brian felt as though he was short circuiting. His head tiled in a questioning sort of manner. He would have to check and make sure that there was no part of him that was an animatronic like those silly things from Disneyland — the Pirates. (Sometimes he wondered. Being made out of wax in the 21st century had to have come with some kind of gimmick.) His choice of words weren’t the best, but he didn’t know how to act gentlemanly when you had gone on and said that. 

Your shoulders sunk. So, this all for naught, huh? “Nevermind.” You waved him off, looking anywhere but at the man in front of you. Maybe you were looking for an exit; you weren’t quite sure. “Forget I said it.”

“No,” he struggled. His hands reached out for you, grabbing your wrist gently. He wasn’t going to let you get away so easily as though he could see your frantic eyes looking for somewhere else to be. “I don’t want to.”

“Brian—”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to ask you out?” He gave up. A humorless laugh fell from his lips. “God, it seems like forever.”

“Really?” The disbelief was beginning to settle, and you in turn could feel your heart soaring. The end of whatever this was was in sight, and a bright light seemed to be shining towards you. Brian guided you there with his words. 

“Of course.”

In the thick silence that followed, you weren’t sure how to continue or get to that light completely. How could you just spill out the words that had tumbled out, and then expect everything to continue on like normal? “I don’t know how long I’ve liked you,” you admitted. “It just sort of happened somewhere along the way.” Maybe it was the night in the stars exhibit — or maybe it was something more mundane in moments that followed?

“I think I’ve always kind of liked you.” He admitted back. 

Maybe honesty was the best policy. 

Your smile blossomed like the flowers in spring, bright and vibrant and easy to adore. Brian’s smile was better though; his was like a whole field of flowers waiting to have others admire them. The way his lips parted to reveal those pearly whites left your stomach doing flips. “Oh, really?”

“Probably.” His hands went to find your own, fingers lacing together. There was that quiet again, effortless in it’s tranquility — aided by the smile adorning Brian’s face. It didn’t last long, however, because soon Brian was in a little fit of quiet giggles. It was effortless to follow, and you soon descended into the same giddiness he felt. He moved closer, and his forehead rested against your own. “I guess there’s really only one thing left to do.”

“And what’s that?” 

“Ask you on a date, of course.”


End file.
